


The Night Fenris Left

by hurdlelocker



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunken Kissing, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, First Time (aftermath), Found Family, Friendship/Love, Laying Groundwork for Polyamory, POV Multiple, Rated M for language and discussion of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24097792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurdlelocker/pseuds/hurdlelocker
Summary: An examination of the events of the night Fenris and Sian Hawke slept together from the perspectives of different people involved in the evening.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Isabela, Fenris/Female Hawke, Fenris/Hawke (Dragon Age), Hawke/Isabela (Dragon Age)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 19





	1. Prologue -- He Understands (Sandal Feddic POV)

**Author's Note:**

> All the thanks to **tejaswrites** for doing the beta work! 
> 
> Thanks also to the DA OC Emporium Discord server for helping me develop some of these chapters as they came to me.

_ Late at night, the Hawke-Amell Estate in Hightown, 9:34 Dragon _

The dwarf paces anxiously as he tidies up his runecrafting table. Words are not easy for him, but he understands people as well as he understands lyrium. He had smiled when he saw his favorite of Sian’s friends come to the Estate, though it was very late. Sandal was happy for them. He understands.

Now though, the sounds upstairs had changed. There had been a blast of energy that Sandal found familiar, but unsettling. And now, some time later, the energy in the air was still spiking and sparking, the muffled sounds from upstairs no longer undercut with pleasure. As he ponders how to help, the bedroom door bursts open. 

Sandal freezes as Fenris sprints down the stairs and past him, silver hair wild, lyrium tattoos pulsating erratically, and tears streaming down his fear-stricken face. As the elf leaves and the front door slams shut behind him, Sandal looks back at the top of the stairs to see Sian--strong, fearless, independent Sian--barely covered by her burgundy dressing gown and crying. 

Sandal cautiously, but quickly, climbs the stairs to reach her as her cries become sobs and she collapses to the floor. Gently, tenderly, the dwarf gathers her in his arms and holds her, humming quietly and rocking soothingly. Sandal doesn’t speak, but he understands.


	2. A Mother's Ache (Leandra Hawke POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leandra Hawke wakes to the sound of her daughter's tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mother's Day in the USA! It felt appropriate to post Leandra's chapter on Mother's Day.
> 
> Thanks again to **tejaswrites** for beta-ing!

Leandra Hawke was a heavy sleeper. She always had been. Late-night childcare had often fallen to Malcolm when the children were young.

She had been dreaming a pleasant dream of Malcolm, Sian, Bethany, and Carver when they lived in Honnleath for a couple of years. She had fond memories of the annual Harvest Festival, where everyone in the village celebrated around the statue in the village center, adorned with festive greenery and which often housed nests of roosting birds. The Festival helped her feel more welcomed and accepted in town even though, for the most part, they stayed on their little plot of land on the outskirts of the village. 

Suddenly, she was awakened by a soft touch from a very worried-looking elf.

“Orana, dear, what’s the matter?”

“Oh mistress, it’s, it’s…” Orana broke into panicked mumbling, rendering her words unintelligible. But it didn’t matter. Leandra could hear it now. 

Sian.

Pulling on her dressing gown over her nightgown, Leandra rushed out of her bedchamber to find her oldest child sobbing at the top of the stairs in the arms of Sandal, the runecrafting dwarf who lived in the Estate. The dwarf’s normally placid and pleasant face was lined with worry as Orana continued to babble helplessly, worryingly close to bursting into tears herself.

Leandra knelt down next to her daughter and coaxed her into a mothering embrace. Gently, she soothed her 27-year-old’s tears until she could breathe more steadily. 

She understood why Sandal and Orana were so concerned. In the four years they had been in Kirkwall, not once had Leandra seen Sian cry, certainly not like this. With a twinge of guilt, she realized that Sian had likely been holding back these tears since Carver’s death, let alone Bethany being taken by the Templars while Sian was on that accursed Deep Roads adventure. Sian had always felt she needed to be the strong one in the family. And Leandra never did anything to correct her. 

The last time she had seen Sian in this much pain was after Malcolm died, and, even then, her own grief had consumed much of her ability to support her grieving children. That had fallen on Sian. Leandra hugged her daughter tightly, trying to transfer seven years of apologies into the embrace. She may not have been able to help Sian in the past, but she could help her now.

“Sian, darling, what happened?”

Sian sniffled, taking the handkerchief Sandal offered her before he nodded and backed down the staircase to his runecrafting table. She looked down at her hands, appearing uncharacteristically embarrassed by the attention. 

“Fenris...he…” Sian’s voice dropped off, again seeming ashamed by whatever happened. Leandra saw red and jumped to the worst possible conclusion, tightening her grip on her daughter’s shoulders. 

Sian felt the tension shift in her mother and looked up, realizing what she was thinking, and hurriedly said, “No, no, no, Mother, no. That’s not what happened. Well, we did have sex, but we both wanted it. Or at least… I thought we did.”

Sian’s voice cracked, “You know those markings on his skin? They’re brands. Of lyrium. And he has no memory of how he got them nor his life before. Or, rather, he  _ had _ no memory.”

Leandra looked at her daughter, confusion mingling with her concern as Sian continued, “Apparently, when we, you know, did it, something happened that made him get flashes of memories of his old life. I tried to get him to explain more, but instead he…”

Leandra could imagine. The few times she had met her daughter’s elven companion, he had been silent or at least, not particularly forthcoming with additional conversation. She guessed the answer, “He refused to do so and ran out on you?”

Sian’s eyes welled up with fresh tears as she nodded, burying her face in the crook of her mother’s neck.

They sat like this until Sian could control her breathing enough to say, “I just want to go out to the Hanged Man and see my friends. I need them.”

Leandra understood, but there was no way she was allowing her daughter to go from their Estate in Hightown all the way to that tavern in Lowtown, regardless of the fact that she was a grown woman and a very capable fighter. She beckoned Orana over.

“Dear, I know we’ve put you through a lot in such a short time, but I have one last favor to ask of you. Please ask the first City Guard you find outside to fetch Guard-Captain Vallen at once and send her to the Estate.”

Orana nodded and hurried off, leaving Leandra and Sian in their embrace at the top of the stairs. 

  
  



	3. A Long Walk (Aveline Vallen POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aveline escorts Sian to the Hanged Man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to **tejaswrites** for beta-ing!

Aveline didn’t normally assign herself patrols, but with most of the Guard sick or on other assignments, necessity deemed she take a shift. Fortunately, the guardsman for whom she was covering had been assigned patrols in the Hightown Estates and around the Viscount’s Keep this past month, so she was conveniently close to her office if an administrative crisis were to occur. It was a mixed blessing, however, that Guardsman Donnic Hendyr had been assigned as the original man’s patrol partner. She still hadn’t worked up the nerve to talk to him about anything outside of work. Staring at the copper marigolds in front of the du Launcet Estate, she thought about the way the sun reflected off Donnic’s soft brown hair, making it look almost copper. The same thing happened to his eyes in candlelight. She was deep in thought about this when a panic-stricken blonde elf sprinted up to her.

“Calm down. What seems to be the problem?” Aveline asked the elf. 

“My mistress said to find the first guard I could and tell them to find the Guard-Captain and bring her to the Hawke Estate as fast as I could!”

Aveline straightened, adrenaline suddenly rushing through her veins. Hailing Donnic to let him know what was happening, she followed the quivering elf to her friend’s home. 

**~*~**

In the four years Aveline had known Sian Hawke, she had never seen the woman cry: not once after they watched her younger brother ripped in half by an ogre; not while fleeing her homeland for a foreign city; and not while forced to work in indentured servitude with criminals to get into Kirkwall. Aveline was stunned by the tear-stained sight before her. 

Sian Hawke typically held herself with an air of unflappable confidence grounded in her quick wit and quicker blades. Here, curled up in her mother’s arms at the top of the stairs, she looked fragile... broken even. 

“Oh Aveline, thank the Maker, I am so glad to see you,” Leandra Hawke said, beckoning the guardswoman to join her. “Would you be a dear and help Sian get to the Hanged Man? It’s the only thing she will agree to that might help her feel better, but I’m not about to let her wander the streets of Kirkwall like this.”

Though she had known the Hawkes for four years now, Aveline still found Leandra’s motherly attachment to her both endearing and bewildering. She helped Sian and Leandra stand up and followed Sian to her room.

Unsure what to do, Aveline awkwardly crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe as Sian silently pulled on a simple shirt and pants, tucking a small knife into her belt, eyes still red-rimmed from crying.

Exiting the Estate, Aveline paused to speak to Donnic, “Guardsman Hendyr, I am going to escort Serah Hawke to Lowtown as a favor to her mother. I shouldn’t be long, do you think you can manage patrolling this portion of Hightown alone until I return?”

“Aye, Captain, I believe I can manage. Be safe. Maker watch over you both.”

Aveline was grateful for the dim light that hid the slight flush she felt in her cheeks when Donnic wished her luck. _Maker, I’m like a little girl again._

Silence settled over the women as they started off toward the Hanged Man. For the most part, Sian had her head down, looking at her feet, posture a complete contrast to what Aveline was used to seeing. 

Sian paused for a moment outside of the Blooming Rose, a thoughtful look on her face. _Oh Maker’s Breath, I truly hope she doesn’t go inside. Would I have to follow?_ Aveline’s worries were for naught, however, as a moment later, Sian heaved a mighty sigh, clearly deciding against a night of whoring, and trudged forward toward the stairs to Lowtown.

The only sound as they walked down the stairs was the crunch of Aveline’s plate armor against the old stone steps. 

At the bottom of the stairs, just before the square that made up Lowtown’s marketplace, Sian broke their silence, pain underscoring her attempt at her usual snarky tone, “I’m surprised you haven’t asked what’s wrong. I know I look a right mess--I can see it in your eyes.”

“It’s not my place. It’s your business.”

“It’s all right. You’re as much a part of my family as Bethany. Shit, I imagine that if Carver had made it to Kirkwall with us, he’d be your shadow or protege in the Guard.”

“Do you want to tell me?”

Sian stood for a moment, closed her eyes, and took a deep, steadying breath. “Yeah, I do.”

Aveline looked at her, softening her gaze as best she could.

“I finally had sex with Fenris.”

Aveline’s eyes widened. _Is that good? Bad? From all appearances,_ something _about it was bad, but the two of them have been dancing around each other for three years now in such an obvious way that even I picked up on it…_ Her thoughts drifted briefly to Donnic and how difficult she has found even attempting to flirt. It was a miracle that she had ever been married, considering how oblivious she had been to Wesley’s advances.

Stumbling to reply, Aveline said, “Er… um… congratulations?”

Strangely, this brought the tiniest of smirks to Sian’s otherwise glum face and she let out a small huff of air, like a non-committal laugh, “Well, I wouldn’t go that far, considering he claimed it was--” Sian pitched her voice deeper in an impression of the broody elf--“‘better than I ever imagined’ and then he panicked and fled.”

Aveline gaped at her. Fenris was a prickly bastard at the best of times, but she would have never thought him to do something like that. It seemed… dishonorable. Composing herself, she narrowed her eyes and said, “Would you like me to kick his arse?”

Surprisingly, Sian’s face broke into a grin, finally making her look like herself for the first time since Aveline saw her that night. “No, Aveline, that won’t be necessary, but thank you for the offer.”

Aveline was still fuming at the elf’s actions when she was interrupted by a peck on her cheek.

“Thank you for walking with me. You’re a good friend, Aveline,” Sian said, gripping Aveline’s gauntleted fingers as tightly as she could. “I think I can handle the rest of the way though. You go back to your handsome guardsman now.”

With a wink and wave, Sian walked off toward the Hanged Man, leaving Aveline at the bottom of the steps.

 _I don’t need to kick Fenris’s arse to teach him not to hurt my friends_ , Aveline thought as she headed up the staircase. _Maybe something good can come out of having to follow tonight’s patrol with an early morning shift._


	4. Girl's Night Out (Isabela POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When your heart is broken, nothing is better than your best friend and booze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what started this entire project. So, special thanks to **ToshiNama** for running "Rite Fites," the results of which can mutate into real writing!
> 
> Thanks again to **tejaswrites** for beta-ing and to everyone who helped me smooth out the drunk speak.

“Corff! Another round for me and my lovely lady!” Sian yelled across the floor of the Hanged Man. “Ugh. Maybe I should try to take Corff home… hesth alwaysth nice to me. I bet HE wouldn’t run off after we dooo it.”

Isabela giggled, hanging off of her friend’s shoulder. “Darling, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that man leave his spot behind the bar. You’d be better off just surprising him there.”

Sian tapped her chin thoughtfully, “Hmmmm… you may be right Izbla. I don’t think that would give  _ me _ the same satisfaction though… ya know what I mean?” Sian waggled her eyebrows suggestively and then started snorting with laughter before sitting heavily as a dark cloud passed over her eyes.

Isabela saw the look and, as Norah approached their table, took the drinks and murmured, “Dear, we’ll be moving up to my room for the rest of the night--in about half an hour or so could you bring a bottle of good rum to the door and knock lightly three times, so I know it’s there?”

Norah looked between Isabela and pouting, grumpy Sian, then nodded with the slightest of eyerolls. Isabela smiled gratefully and hoisted Sian up out of her chair so the two of them could weave their way up the stairs to the privacy of Isabela’s room.

As they reached the second floor, giggling loudly, Varric popped his head out of his room to investigate the ruckus.

“VARRIC!!” Sian hurled herself at the dwarf, kneeling on the floor and snuggling up against his ever-present chest hair. “How aaaarrre youuuu? Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

Sian continued to babble incomprehensibly into his chest as he gingerly patted her on the head and looked at Isabela, eyebrows raised, asking, “Rivaini, what’s goin’ on with Dervish? She can usually hold her liquor better than this.”

Isabela laughed and once again pulled Sian into a standing position, “Oh, you know, sometimes she gets a little overly competitive and wildly declares she’ll drink people’s weight in whatever booze is nearby. At least this time it wasn’t dwarven ale.”

Sian hiccupped at this, grumbling, “Why ya gotta take me from my sexy? Varric’ll never leave me… Varric’d never fuck someone and then run off…”

Varric raised his eyebrows to Isabela once more, this time with more concern lining his face. “I’ll make sure Norah brings you ladies some water.”

“Good idea, but don’t let her forget my rum!” Isabela said over her shoulder as she ushered Sian into her room.

The door to Isabela’s room slammed shut behind them as Sian tripped onto the bed and began shucking off her boots and gloves with excessive force.

“Are you alright there, pet?”

Fire burned in Sian’s lyrium eyes as they locked onto Isabela’s. More than fire, Isabela could also see painful storm clouds in the flames. Her heart split. She knew those clouds all too well herself. She had been feeling the storm brewing every time she looked at her friend and thought about the secret she had been hiding since they met--the secret that could destroy everything.

“I just… I don’t get it,” Sian whispered. “I don’t-- I mean… ARGH!! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! Who the fuck comes to their  _ friend’s house in the middle of the night _ , broods, and then after fucking the ever-loving fuck out of someone, just fucking LEAVES?!”

Isabela remained quiet, not wanting to interrupt Sian’s outburst, until Sian looked at her expectantly--apparently that was not a rhetorical question. Sitting next down next to Sian on the bed, Isabela wrapped her arms around Sian’s lithe shoulders and said, “You want to know who pulls shit like that? Men.”

Sian snorted, “Heh. True. Fuck ‘em all.”

“Believe me, I’ve tried.”

They collapsed into giggles on the bed, Sian hiccupping and snorting herself into tears. Isabela smiled, glad she was able to steer the conversation away from any real emotional topics. Her smile faded when she looked back at Sian and realized that the tears had swung from mirth to grief. Gingerly, she stroked Sian’s back to soothe the tears.

“Shhhh...shhh… it’s alright, darling. I’m here,” Isabela adjusted herself so Sian could curl up into her lap. Though her hands continued tracing a slow, soothing pattern onto Sian’s shoulder blades, Isabela’s mind raced in a panic to think of  _ something _ that would return them to the easy, fun atmosphere they had had downstairs.

“If you really wanted to get back at Fe-- _ him _ for this shit he’s pulled, d’you know what you should do?”

Sian stopped crying with a choking sound, “No, what should I do?”

“Fuck Anders.”

Sian made a face somewhere between confusion, revulsion, and consideration. 

_ Had she really not thought of that? It was one of my first thoughts when she told me what happened with Fenris… shit… what does that say about me? _

Sian snorted, “Heh… yeah that would be the way to do it. And it’s not like Anders wouldn’t be game…” 

Isabela raised an eyebrow -- something about Sian’s words sounded wrong. It was as if she was trying to pull her curtain of defensive humor back in front of her, but the curtain was catching on something. So, she asked, “...but…?”

“But I dunno. It seems  _ wrong _ \--” Sian hiccupped and frowned “--really wrong to do that. And  _ that _ seems wrong too!” Sian hiccupped again, frown deepening. “Why does it feel different now? Sex is just… sex! It’s just... how I keep the Templars off our backs. Have some fun doing it. I don’t even know if I’ve ever actually  _ wanted _ to fuck a Templar. Shit, Rutherford is the only  _ attractive _ one in Kirkwall, and he looks like death warmed over half the time.”

Sian’s hiccups stopped her from continuing. There were three soft taps on the door. Gently, Isabela extricated herself from Sian’s grip and went to the door to bring in the jug of water and bottle of rum Nora had placed. She poured Sian a glass of water and sat back down on the bed, resuming her soothing strokes on Sian’s back. A few minutes passed before Sian quietly spoke again. 

“It’s just… with Fenris… it’s different. I don’t know what it is but… even when he asks me for help hunting down Danarius, he makes me feel wanted, needed even, without expecting anything in return. Just like you.”

_ Just like… me…?! Shit. Fuck. How did I get here? When she finds out why I’ve stayed in Kirkwall for so long, it’s going to be a disaster… _

Isabela’s worried thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the rough pressure of Sian’s chapped lips on her own. She stiffened in surprise at the sudden contact, then melted into the kiss, deepening it as she moved. Sian’s hands glided down Isabela’s side, sending goosebumps up her spine at the contact. Oh, how she had wanted this since that first night they met three years ago. She pulled Sian completely into her lap, holding her tight, kissing her as if stopping meant losing her.

_ But you  _ will _ lose her. _ The voice in Isabela’s head was back.  _ When she learns what you’ve done… She will leave you and she will  _ hate _ you. No amount of kissing will change that. _

Isabela sighed. Sian had been moving toward the laces on her breeches, but Isabela gently took her hands to stop her. “No, darling, not tonight.”

Sian made a noise in protest, which Isabela silenced with a quick kiss. Caressing Sian’s face, she sighed and said, “Maker knows I want this, but we have had at least a bottle of rum each in a very short amount of time. I want you to be able to remember our first night together--not have the memory clouded in rum. Let’s just get some rest. You’ve had a very long night.”

Isabela placed a soft kiss on Sian’s lips before pulling her down to lay her head on the pillow. Taking a final swig of the rum to calm her sad heart, she curled up protectively behind her best friend, hoping that she could at least give her a peaceful sleep.

  
  



	5. About Last Night... (Sian Hawke POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sian wakes up with a monster of a hangover. (First Person POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was born from a challenge set by **ToshiNama** in a "Rite Fite" to describe a scene without the use of sight.
> 
> As before, "thanks" to **tejaswrites** for beta-ing!

My head is pounding.  _ Where am I? _ I try to open my eyes and not only does the effort make me want to die, what little light makes it through the slit is enough to send a stabbing pain straight through my brain like a knife in the gut.

_ What the fuck is happening? _

Keeping my eyes closed and moving as little as possible, I try to focus my senses through the swirling haze in my head. One foot is freezing cold and the other feels cramped and overly warm. Slowly shifting my feet toward each other, I figure it out: I’m only wearing one boot.

_ Maker, I ask again: what in the Void happened? _

I move my hands around, taking in the rough texture of the blanket around me and the smooth silk of my undershirt.  _ One boot, undershirt but nothing else on top, breeches still on, rough blanket… I must be in the Hanged Man. _

Relaxing somewhat, now that I know where I am and that I’m most likely safe, I take a deep breath to further calm myself. I inhale the familiar, sour stench of sweat, sex, piss, and beer yeast mixed with the savory aroma of whatever stew Corff and Nora have been serving and...something else… familiar… warm and spicy, but with a salty tang… not the unpleasant salty odor of sweat but the cool, clear, clean smell of the ocean after a storm… 

_ Oh shit. _

Memories of last night flood back into my head like wine into a glass. I feel my skin flush in embarrassment and regret and… sadness. I hear the clanking of tankards and cutlery from the tavern and the quiet roar of people talking. Unfortunately, this does nothing to help me figure out how long I’ve been in her room. Or if she’s even still here.

My mouth is drier than Meredith’s twat, but I have to say something…

“Izbla?” I croak, barely audible.

A wave of cinnamon and salt wafts over to me as a cool cloth is placed on my forehead.

“Yes, dear?” says the soft, warm voice of an angel. She props up my head and pours some cool water into my mouth.

“‘M sry,” I mumble, still barely able to articulate.

“Whatever for?”

“Just… being a mess… you don’t deserve that.”

The cool cloth on my forehead is removed and in its place I feel a spot of warmth. Isabela strokes my hair soothingly, easing the pounding headache still dominating my functions.

“Don’t worry yourself over last night. I hope you know that I’m always here for you, no matter what happens.”

I sigh, exhaustion pulling me back into its embrace, and mumble something unintelligible.

As I drift back to sleep, head laying in Isabela’s warm lap, her fingers still carding gently through my hair and scalp, I hear her murmur, “...you too.”

  
  



	6. Explain Yourself (Fenris POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris has some explaining to do...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to **electricshoebox** for helping me talk through Fenris's brain and for cheerleading, especially on this chapter.
> 
> And, of course, "thanks" to **tejaswrites** for beta-ing!

It had been a long day. Sian had sent him to help Aveline with some issues the guards were having with the Templars. Well, more accurately, Aveline came knocking on his door that morning, cold fury in her eyes and informed him he was helping her out in exchange for the work she does to help him continue living in Danarius’s Hightown Estate unbothered.

At any rate, Fenris was looking forward to the bottles of Tevinter wine waiting for him in his suite. He fidgeted with the red scarf tied around his wrist, trying not to feel and remember where it was from.

_...heavy breathing… hearts pounding… blood rushing… soft caresses…  _

He shook his white hair sharply, as if to shoo away the memory of the night before. He didn’t deserve the good parts of them, not after what he did.

He passed the skeleton by the main staircase, nodding at it, as had become habit, and continued to his suite. He was so deep in thought, left hand fiddling with his right wrist, head down, that it took longer than it should have for him to realize the fire in his suite was already lit and that he was not alone.

“Well, look who it is,” Isabela said, her tone icy. “You have some explaining to do.”

“Take a seat, Broody,” Varric said, gesturing to the empty chair at the table where he sat with Isabela.

A stiff silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of Varric pouring wine into goblets and the crackling of the fire. Fenris felt Isabela’s gaze boring into him and couldn’t bring himself to return the eye contact. He knew there was only one reason for them to be here today, like this, but a stubborn part of him refused to be the one to broach the topic. They sipped the dark red wine in this silence.

“Fuck it. If you’re not gonna say something, I will,” Varric grumbled. “What the hell did you do to Sian last night?”

Fenris resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow at the use of her first name -- not her nickname or simply “Hawke.” If he had doubted Varric was anything but dead serious before, he no longer did now. He risked a glance up from his goblet. Varric wore an expression of mixed pain and concern, but there was more sadness than anger lining his face. Isabela looked murderous.  _ Fenhedis _ …

Tearing his eyes away from her, he stared back into his goblet, as if it held the answer.

“Why bother asking him? We already know what he did,” Isabela growled with a derisive huff of breath. “He fucked Sian and then ran off like a coward.” 

“I have a hard time believing that’s the whole story, Rivaini. You can call him many things, but ‘coward’ is not one of them.”

“I am a coward,” Fenris whispered, barely audible. 

“What was that?”

Fenris sighed and spoke louder, “I am a coward. If I weren’t… I would have…” He took a deep, steadying breath. “I tried to explain to Sian what happened. Evidently, I didn’t do a good job at that. I’m still trying to figure it out myself.”

Isabela scoffed again, but there was less venom in the sound.

Fenris rose from his chair and stood by the hearth, much like he had done in Sian’s room. Staring into the flames, he searched for the words once more. The memories had faded from the blinding brightness he had experienced at the moment of his orgasm, but they were still  _ there _ . He remembered  _ remembering _ . And that fact alone was significant.

“Yes, last night I went to speak with Sian--to apologize for how I acted when we dealt with Hadriana… for running off… and as I turned to leave… she stopped me… and when we kissed--” he paused, heaving a sigh and clenching his fist around the red cloth on his wrist-- “it was like the world turned upside down. Emotions I didn’t know I possessed came bubbling up, threatening to consume me, consume her, if I let them.” He dropped his hands to his side and turned to face Isabela and Varric. “Afterward, as we laid together, the emotions faded into faces… words… memories… memories I thought I’d lost… memories of who I was  _ before _ I became this… weapon. For just a moment, I could recall  _ all of it _ . And then it slipped away.”

Looking at Isabela, he could hear Sian’s smirking words from last night:  _ If it brings your memory back, maybe we need to do it more often. _ The urge he had to snap at Isabela, similar to how he had wanted to shake Sian for her glib reaction, faded when he realized that the icy fury that had been highlighting the pirate’s face had completely melted away into something more like sympathy. Somehow, where Sian had turned to humor to parry and deflect away the pain of his words, Isabela heard them and held them. He sighed and hung his head in shame.

“I feel like such a fool. All I wanted was to be happy… just for a little while.”

The silence settled back over the room, though this time, it’s warmer, less stiff. He returned to his chair and took a swallow of wine. “Even if I don’t deserve it, I hope she can forgive me. I feel… my best when I’m in her presence, but there is so much happening inside my head right now that I… I don’t think I can be the man she needs me to be. Certainly not the man she deserves.” He thought, but refrained from saying,  _ Because Sian Hawke deserves the world, not a broken and damaged… thing. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some of what inspired how I wrote Fenris's thoughts, check out this comic by **serenityfails** : https://archiveofourown.org/works/9224306 -- It's M!Hawke/Fenris and NSFW but heart-wrenching and so well-written/drawn.


	7. Epilogue -- He Understands (Sandal Feddic POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time has passed and Sandal has noticed a change in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we conclude the story! I originally wrote this with Chapter 1, I believe for one of the Saturday writing threads on the DA subreddit. It seemed like a nice way to bookend the story.
> 
> All the "thanks" again to **tejaswrites** for their help editing this!
> 
> And thank _you_ for reading!

_ A different night, the Hawke-Amell Estate, 9:36 Dragon _

Time has passed. Though Fenris has come to the Estate since that night, Sandal could tell there had been no resolution between him and Sian. So, tonight, like all nights, Sandal tidies up his runecrafting and keeps his ears open, hoping something will change; that the jagged discomfort between Sian and Fenris will be smoothed once more. 

Tonight, all of Sian’s friends had come to the Estate to discuss her recent trip to the mountains with Fenris, Varric, and her sister, and there was a spark of hope flickering between Sian and Fenris. A wall still stood, but Sandal could see it crumbling with every stolen glance and hidden smile between the pair. 

A few hours later, as the companions left, Varric giving him a knowing wink and Isabela dropping down to plant a kiss on his cheek, Sandal realized that Sian and Fenris were still sitting by the fire, silently, the backs of their hands touching. Sandal smiled as he looked at the pair: their walls are more like a fence now, but they seem calm. Sandal, as usual, smiles to himself and says nothing, but he understands.

  
  



End file.
